Today’s viewing audiences are far too sophisticated for advertisements full of fake doctors, the word “sale” flashing on repeat, and tight clothing on attractive models. Today, we want ads to actually speak to us—to connect to our hopes and dreams, to flip our thinking in unexpected ways and to reflect the world we’d like to see around us. And we know that advertising can offer this because, every once in a while, we find ourselves cracking up or reaching for a tissue after watching a commercial that connects with us.

For four years running, TED has honored 10 commercials that operate on this higher level, offering up bold ideas, real emotions and inspiring visions. Each year, a panel of TED speakers, staff and advertising industry insiders select 10 Ads Worth Spreading, honoring innovation and smart thinking in advertising. Below, check out our picks for 2014. From a movie made with atoms to a look at the strange relationship women can have with the camera, these ads were chosen in five categories—Storytelling, Social Good, Cultural Compass, Creative Wonder, and Learning. The reason behind thes selections is simple, says our Head of Global Partnerships, Ronda Carnegie. “Like the best TED Talks, this year’s Ads Worth Spreading enrich lives rather than disrupt them.”

As we prepare for TED2014, our 30th anniversary conference which is themed, “The Next Chapter,” we see great potential for ads like these to propel us forward.

First, a touching Olympics-themed spot from Procter & Gamble that celebrates the unsung heroes of the games — moms. It teaches us that falling only makes us stronger, and reminds us of the importance of encouragement.

Michael is the best at what he does—when top charities need an African child star for their ads, they call him first. This sarcastic piece reminds us of how ridiculous stereotypes can be, and why we need to throw them out.

Thanks to YouTube, many of the creatives and marketers behind these ads—who all demonstrated what we call “brand bravery”—will gather at TEDActive 2014 with some of our Ads Worth Spreading All-Stars. Together, the group will work on some exciting challenges. Stay tuned to the TED Blog to see what they come up with.

If you drive away with it, I won’t have it any more, which is a real hassle.

Please don’t steal my identity or my reputation either. Neither travels well, and all the time you’re using it, you’re degrading something that belongs to me.

But my ideas? Sure, yes, please, by all means, take them.

The scarcity underlying the industrial economy (what’s not yours is mine) has pushed us to make a mistake about ideas. If everyone in town comes to my plant and takes a free sample of what I make, I’ll go bankrupt. But if everyone in the world takes a free sample of one of my ideas (or at least one of my good ones), we’ll all get richer.

I got an email from a reader last week. She was spitting angry at another blogger and wanted me to lower the hammer on him. According to my loyal reader, he had plagiarized many of my ideas, writing one post after another that, while not using my words, clearly demonstrated to her that he was hunting on my land.

Not true, I assured her. He hadn’t plagiarized anything, he had built something new, by synthesizing ideas and experiences to invent the next step, a step available to all of us.

It’s not my land. It’s ours. And no one is hunting… If anything, we’re farming, and all the cross-pollination going on helps everyone.

How dare we criticize an inventor or an author or a leader for, “stealing someone else’s ideas.” Ideas can’t be stolen, because ideas don’t get smaller when they’re shared, they get bigger.

That’s one reason why the rise of patent trolling among otherwise upstanding innovators is so troubling. The patent troll uses the specter of long, drawn-out litigation to extort money from completely innocent entrepreneurs. The patent troll is selfish, spinning out untruths for personal profit — he belongs under a bridge somewhere, not on stage or on our bookshelf. The chilling effect of this mistaken understanding of the moral and legal implications of idea theft is huge.

What patent trolls won’t talk about, because they have no standing and no proof, is the fact that an expensive, bureaucratic patent system does nothing at all to increase the likelihood that new ideas will be created and most important, that new productivity will arise. Patents weren’t developed to protect ideas (ideas can’t be patented) but the specific execution of useful innovations.

Trolls and their copyright-defending brethren would like to amplify a cultural shift, one that’s left over from the days of Henry Ford and Frank Sinatra. They’d like people to be afraid to steal ideas. We don’t need to shun those that steal ideas. We need to chastise those that think that this is a problem.

Matt Ridley has famously pointed out that no one knows how to make a computer mouse. You need the assembled talents of a metallurgist, a plastics specialist, someone in supply chain management, a software whiz, etc. The productivity of our generation isn’t the productivity of the efficient assembly line (that’s old school). No, our productivity is the productivity of connection.

The connection economy steps in just as the glory days of the industrial age begin to fade. The connection economy rewards coordination, sharing and trust. All three of which are built on our species’ unique ability to steal ideas.

When two people meet on the dance floor, an exchange of ideas takes place. My move, your move. When two people play chess, they each get a little smarter. And when a chef joins another in the kitchen, the unspoken exchange of ideas moves the state of the art forward.

Is it theft to put raw fish on seasoned rice? What about serving a pizza grilled on coals without crediting Al Forno in Rhode Island? At what point can we stop calling it stealing and start calling it merely delicious?

There is, of course, a difference between stealing and passing off. When you pretend that those taken words are your words, you’re no longer taking an idea — you’re taking an implementation. When you pretend that you are the originator, the original source, and you’re not, you’ve corrupted your work by claiming authorship, when you are merely contributing synthesis. This hurts your reputation as well as the person you stole from, because our society values authorship and origination.

The amazing thing about giving credit, though, is you never run out. Like ideas, the more credit is shared, the more it can be worth, to the giver and to the recipient.

Last thing: With the ability to steal comes responsibility. Not just the responsibility to synthesize something better than what you started with, but the obligation to relentlessly seek out the next thing worth stealing. We’ve created a bucket line. Our economy is a long line of people handing ideas up and down the line, improving and customizing at each step. When you stop seeking and merely consume, you let us all down.

And yes, sure, please steal this idea. But make it better first, okay?

Seth Godin is a relentless blogger, a teacher and an entrepreneur. In 1990, he didn’t patent a whole mess of email related inventions. “Questions Worth Asking” is a new TED editorial series; this week we ask the question, “Can I borrow that?” to dig into themes of cross-disciplinary innovation and idea-sharing.

]]>http://ideas.ted.com/the-big-mistake-we-all-make-about-ideas/feed/53godintedblogguestgodinBob Mankoff picks his 11 favorite New Yorker cartoons everhttp://ideas.ted.com/bob-mankoff-picks-his-11-favorite-new-yorker-cartoons-ever/
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Bob Mankoff: Anatomy of a New Yorker cartoon
Bob Mankoff lives and breathes cartoons. He’s drawn many himself — he’s had a contract with The New Yorker for more than 30 years and, in 1997, he became the magazine’s cartoon editor. It’s now his job to sift through the 1,000 or so “idea drawings” (as they’re called within The New Yorker‘s walls) that are submitted each week — and decide upon the 17 or so that will make it into print. As Mankoff explains in great detail in today’s TED Talk, he has a keen idea of what works within the context of the cerebral pages of his magazine. And he’s built up a stable of his own favorite drawings over the years.

We asked Mankoff to do the unthinkable and reveal in public some of the cartoons he finds perennially delightful. With typical good humor, he not only did so, but added his own wry commentary on why exactly he deems these cartoons perfectly New Yorker-worthy. Here, in chronological order, his top eleven. Enjoy.

“This is a simply perfect cartoon; it’s perfectly constructed,” says Mankoff. “We have no empathy or sympathy for the pain-in-the-ass old biddy. Then there’s this guy, this shoe salesman, bringing out hundreds of shoes. We think he’s reaching for another black shoe and it turns out he’s reaching for a gun. But this is important: we know he’s not going to kill her. If he shot her, it’d be horrible. This is fantasy, not reality.” Chon Day, December 14, 1946.

“This is so poignant, and I picked it to show off the range of New Yorker cartoons,” Mankoff explains. “It doesn’t work like the others, it really has mixed resonance. Mick is a saxophonist, and the cartoon shows off a barren landscape which is broadly symbolic. It’s not funny, but to me it’s about life without art. This is something that could only have appeared in The New Yorker.” Mick Stevens, December 17, 1979.

“You can’t go wrong with stupidity,” says Mankoff wryly. “When in doubt, make fun of an idiot.” He relents: “But this is done in a lovely way; it’s a lovely drawing. The guy who’s doing this stuff is dumb, but the cartoon is clever.” Jack Ziegler, July 11, 1988.

“This is a great cartoon, really, because it’s humor that is meaningful and absolutely true,” says Mankoff. “If we look at the obituaries and see our own age there, it’s chilling.” Roz Chast, October 25, 1993.

“Cartoons are either in the realm of reality or fantasy. Everything about this can’t possibly happen; it defies logic and reality and yet it leads to hilarity,” says Mankoff. “‘Fusilli’ sounds like an Italian piece of pasta, but they’re both crazy, because they’re pieces of pasta. Is that ‘Rigatoni’ calling? I don’t know, but it’s one of my all-time favorite cartoons.” Charles Barsotti, November 21, 1994.

“This is about the unbridgeable gulf between what each of us wants and how to interpret another’s feelings,” says Mankoff. “It’s a wonderfully complicated sentence, and we understand it transfers to the very complicated psychological dimensions that separate the two characters from each other.” Bruce Eric Kaplan, October 26, 1998.

“This takes an empty-headed cliché and adds a little bit of scatological reference. The two associations make this a great cartoon,” says Mankoff, who adds musingly, “We definitely don’t want cats to think outside the box.” Leo Cullum, November 30, 1998.

“If you read The New Yorker, you must know a little about something,” says Mankoff, who submitted his first cartoons to the magazine in 1974. “So you know that’s Einstein, you know about the theory of relativity, you know about sexual relations between men and women. And when you know all that, you know it’s funny.” Eric Lewis, November 13, 2000.

“This is a wonderful example of bringing together two different levels of association, with a tiny bit of disparagement against the French, which is always enjoyable,” says Mankoff with a wink. “Normally it’d be a Swiss army knife but here it’s French so it’s all corkscrews. It’s saying they like wine, which isn’t too bad. It’s not saying they’re inveterate alcoholics. For the viewer, there’s the little cognitive thrill of putting things together.” Michael Crawford, September 10, 2001.

“This is how humor works, by bringing together two different things that usually don’t go together,” Mankoff says. “Usually, revolutionary Che Guevara is the T-shirt, but it turns out he admires another icon, Bart Simpson, a rebel in his own way. There’s a tiny bit of disparagement here; Che is a little downcast. But Bart wearing Che wouldn’t be funny.” Matt Diffee, February 2, 2004.

“This is just a wonderfully constructed cartoon,” Mankoff explains. “You don’t know what the guy will say and it’s all a surprise.” Subversion is at work here. “Of course it’s good that gays and lesbians are getting married, but the reference is to marriage itself, which is a fertile source for humor,” Mankoff continues. “Not when it’s a good marriage; there are no cartoons about good marriages, but there sure are a lot of cartoons about bad marriages.” Michael Shaw, March 1, 2004.

Want more on the making of New Yorker cartoons? Watch the adorable TED-Ed lesson “Inside a cartoonist’s world” from Liza Donnelly, as she walks you through the stages every cartoon goes through, from idea to finish.

]]>http://ideas.ted.com/bob-mankoff-picks-his-11-favorite-new-yorker-cartoons-ever/feed/77New-Yorker-featurehelenwaltersShoe-Salesmanlife-without-mozart"You can't go wrong with stupidity," says Mankoff wryly. "When in doubt, make fun of an idiot." He relents: "But this is done in a lovely way, it's a lovely drawing. The guy who's doing this stuff is dumb, but the cartoon is clever." Jack Ziegler, July 11, 1988.Your-age-on-the-dot"Cartoons are either in the realm of reality or fantasy. Everything about this can't possibly happen; it defies logic and reality and yet it leads to hilarity," says Mankoff. "'Fusilli' sounds like an Italian piece of pasta, but they're both crazy, because they're pieces of pasta. Is that Rigatoni calling? I don't know, but it's one of my all-time favorites." Charles Barsotti, November 21, 1994."This is about the unbridgeable gulf between what each of us wants and how to interpret another's feelings," says Mankoff. "It's a wonderfully complicated sentence, and we understand it transfers to the very complicated psychological dimensions that separate them from each other." Bruce Eric Kaplan, October 26, 1998."This takes an empty-headed cliche and adds a little bit of scatological reference. The two associations make this a great cartoon," says Mankoff, who adds thoughtfully, "We definitely don't want cats to think outside the box." Leo Cullum, November 30, 1998."If you read the New Yorker, you must know a little about something," says Mankoff, who's been cartoon editor at the magazine since 1997. "So you know that's Einstein, you know about the theory of relativity, you know about sexual relations between men and women. And when you know all that, you know it's funny." Eric Lewis, November 13, 2000."This is a wonderful example of bringing together two different levels of association, with a tiny bit of disparagement against the French, which is always enjoyable," says Mankoff with a wink. "Normally it'd be a Swiss army knife but here it's French so it's all corkscrews. It's saying they like wine, which isn't too bad. It's not saying they're not inveterate alcoholics. For the viewer, there's the little cognitive thrill of putting things together." Michael Crawford, September 10, 2001."This is how humor works out, by bringing together two different things that usually don't go together," Mankoff says. "Usually, revolutionary Che Guevara is the T-shirt, but it turns out he admires another icon, Bart Simpson, a rebel in his own way. There's a tiny bit of disparagement here; Che is a little downcast. But Bart wearing Che wouldn't be funny." Matt Diffee, February 2, 2004."This is just a wonderfully constructed cartoon," Mankoff explains. "You don't know what the guy will say and it's all a surprise." Subversion is at work here, too. " Of course it's good that gays and lesbians are getting married, but the reference is to marriage itself, which is a fertile source for humor. Not when it's a good marriage; there are no cartoons about good marriages, but there sure are a lot of cartoons about bad marriages." Michael Shaw, March 1, 2004.How to spread ideas: Speakers and translators at the Open Translation session at TEDGlobal 2013http://blog.ted.com/2013/06/14/how-to-spread-ideas-speakers-and-translators-at-the-open-translation-session-at-tedglobal-2013/
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The TEDGlobal translator contingent — part of a group of more than 9,000 volunteer translators in 101 languages. Photo: Ryan Lash

“I write sci-fi novels, because if I wrote a white paper nobody would read it,” Daniel Suarez told a panel of translators at TEDGlobal 2013. The science fiction author and drone activist was taking questions during his Skype Open Translation session, in which he described a dystopic–and all too believable–future dominated by autonomous lethal drones. His audience sat on the edge of their seats (or beanbags), bursting with questions. For instance, German translator Philipp Boing asked why he used science fiction as a medium to warn about such a dire vision of the future. Avoiding obscurity was a pretty solid answer.

During breaks between talk sessions throughout the week, a curated panel of TEDGlobal speakers and TED Talk translators–appearing in person and via videoconference–discussed topics like drone warfare, cultural identity, humor and guerrilla urban development. While the translators and speakers did not always directly address the topic of translation itself, the theme remained a powerful undercurrent. And many of the translators’ questions for the speakers shared a theme, too. One favorite: “How will you (or I) carry your ideas off of the TED stage?”

Just as there is no such thing as a definitive translation, none of the speakers claimed to have a singular answer. For Suarez, fiction was one relatable way to convey his message. But he also works with advocacy organizations, hypothesizes legal frameworks, and models an open-source “immune system” designed to allow citizens to monitor rogue drones.

We know that ideas, predictions and solutions for the future come from a lucky intersection of what we know and observe with our informed imagination. When Teddy Cruz observed how Tijuana residents retrofitted their generic, developer-built bungalows, he saw a density of social and economic interactions that’s missing in certain sprawling, oil- and water-guzzling American cities. Swedish translator Matti Jaaro asked him how it might be possible to reinvigorate a sense of ownership among urban dwellers, rich or poor. Cruz answered that not only did he see in these developing-world neighborhoods a model to rein in sprawl, but also an opportunity to “establish a social platform through a kind of urban pedagogy.” In other words: reinvent the negative connotation of “slums” and invest in parks and social spaces in neighborhoods that are already vibrant, but lack a voice.

Translators are key to this process of reinventing assumptions and giving a voice to the unheard. They have first-hand familiarity with the power of language to generate ideas–for good or bad. Translator Katia Demirtzoglou, talking with artist Hetain Patel about language’s effect on cultural identity, described the unique brand of humor her multilingual family had developed as a result of rapidly switching among German, English and Turkish. “Others often don’t understand the jokes between us,” she said. Yet.